


Proof of life; war is over

by bluebells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael doesn’t speak of the brothers that have lain at his feet, blistered, baying for blood and beyond repair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of life; war is over

**Author's Note:**

> Because there need to be more stories where Adam confronts the gravity of Michael's past.

“You don’t want to see the truths of that place. My Heaven isn’t like yours.” 

Michael doesn’t speak of the brothers that have lain at his feet, blistered, baying for blood and beyond repair. 

He never grew accustomed to shoving his sword down their throats, through their beaten chests and the clench of their hearts. They all looked to him with the same trembling rage and plea to remember them, remember the way they once served their Father together and observed the birth of worlds, their wings lifted on the same song.

_Remember me. Spare me. End me quickly._

_You did this to us._

_I did this for you._

Michael’s Heaven is an empty street of tarnished gold with broken gates and few brave enough to stand vigil over the ruin. It is cold, dim, and still. The broken bodies and stains of grace have long been cleared away.

“My Heaven isn’t like yours. If I had one last wish, no creature would ever have to see that place again. I would lock that mausoleum myself and throw away the key.”

Michael stares out the window of the second story motel room. The dusk would blind any other vessel, but Michael has stood in the grace of thousands as they spilled across the skies, igniting the hearts of suns and birthing galaxies in the blink before their eclipse; before their divine light collapsed into the void and Michael was forced to look away before that darkness peered back into him.

“I’m responsible,” Michael says. “I have to see this through. It’s all that’s left.”

The bed springs creak behind him and then hands cover his eyes. He allows himself to be led away from that window with slow, careful backward steps on worn carpet. The hands slide warm down his neck to turn him around.

Adam’s hands remain firm on his shoulders.

“I did see it. Through your eyes. The war’s over, Michael.”

Michael opens his eyes with foreboding and lifts his gaze to Adam’s stoic expression. He holds his breath and something within him splinters when Adam takes Michael’s hand, bringing it to his chest. Michael’s fingers curl in cotton feeling the pulse of the heartbeat he once called his own. 

Adam’s fingers link with his, stilling his tremble. "And it isn’t the only thing you have left.”


End file.
